Raina Kelley is one devious piece of work. Having hit upon the brainwave of wowing her soulmate with Orvis gear for Father’s Day in order to earn some serious concessions on the domestic admin front in return, she then brazenly revealed her plan to the nation in advance, via her Newsweek column – A Hustler’s Guide to Father’s Day (“I’ll just tell him I wrote about shoes and he’ll never read it”)…
“I don’t need him to be around at 6 in the morning, when the trout are jumping and my son is sleeping…What I need from that rod and reel is for Cory to feel guilty about all the fishing. So, on a Wednesday at 8:30 p.m., when Gabriel is acting like a drunken old man, crying and laughing at the same time, waving his bottle crookedly and banging his head on the pillow, Cory will feel compelled to step in and I can read a magazine. The guilt from one morning of fishing should also allow me at least a facial and a few minutes on Facebook after work, maybe even the occasional mani-pedi“
I don’t know about you but I’m shocked at such cold calculation in the mother of a young child.
But at least everyone bar Raina’s other half is now forewarned. If there’s a Hardy Marksman propped up against your side of the bed one morning next June, you know you’re designated driver on Junior’s social circuit for the next six months. At least.